


Untitled Drabble

by sorcererofsupremepizza



Series: Mycroft and Lestrade - Relationship Shenanigans [6]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: A tiny bed, Established Mycroft Holmes/Greg Lestrade, Established Relationship, Greg messes with Mycroft because he can, M/M, Sharing a Bed, Sleepovers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-29
Updated: 2017-05-29
Packaged: 2018-11-06 10:34:15
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 896
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11034402
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sorcererofsupremepizza/pseuds/sorcererofsupremepizza
Summary: Honestly, I don't even know where this came from. Myc stays over at Gregory's place.





	Untitled Drabble

A tangle of limbs and blankets. That’s all Mycroft could think to describe the current situation. He and Greg had spent the previous evening enjoying a pleasant date night out with dinner and a pleasurable stroll through a nearby park, but they grew weary and retreated to Greg’s flat. The only reason they hadn’t gone to Mycroft’s house, he knew, was because Greg’s was closer and neither of them were in the mood to drive all the way across the busy city of London.

So, seeing as it was Friday night and neither of them had anywhere in particular to be the next day, Mycroft slept over in Greg’s tiny, twin sized bed. It wasn’t comfortable by any means, but seeing Lestrade wrapped around him, ensnared in the navy blue sheets and his shirtless back visible where he lay spread across the mattress, Mycroft smiled. He’d gotten up early, carefully wedged his way out of the maelstrom of arms and duvets, and made coffee for the both of them.

Of course, Greg was still slept like a rock, a dull snore escaping his nostrils. Mycroft noted the overly mussed-up hair, the silver spikes sticking this way and that. He cocked his head to the left and then the right, popping his bones back into their proper places. Not only was Greg’s bed miniscule in comparison to his, but he vaguely remembered Greg throwing himself on top of him at some point in the middle of the night.

With a sudden start, Greg’s eyes snapped open and searched the room. His hand reached toward the side of the bed that Mycroft had taken last night, and when they came up empty, Mycroft observed Greg’s forehead and the perplexed wrinkles that quickly developed.

“Good morning, Gregory.” Mycroft said softly, walking across the untidy wooden floor barefoot. He sat down on the chair in the corner as Greg rolled over to look at him.

“Oh, there you are.” Greg said, smiling at the other man and sat up, stretching his arms above his head and yawning. Mycroft managed to refrain from reciprocating the yawn and instead sipped his mug of coffee. He raised an eyebrow at his boyfriend’s comment.

“Where else would I be?”

“I figured my tiny bed drove you away.” Greg said with a chuckle and observed Mycroft properly for the first time.

The government official looked immensely out of place. His hair, which was normally combed and presentable, was askew. He currently donned Greg’s old rugby t-shirt and a pair of borrow pyjama pants, and was barefoot. Now that Greg thought about it, Mycroft looked right at home in his messy little flat. He couldn’t help but grin at the sight.

“Nonsense, Gregory. It might have caused a neck cramp or two, but that is hardly a reason to make you sleep alone.” Mycroft explained, his free hand idly reaching up to scratch his shoulder.

Greg rolled out of bed finally, getting to his feet. Mycroft set the now empty Scotland Yard mug aside and met Greg in the middle, embracing the DI. His slender arms trailed around his bare middle, meeting behind him. His lips soon followed suit, joining Greg’s in a passionate Saturday morning kiss.

“Mm, if that’s how you greet me in the mornings, we definitely need to do this more often, Myc.” Greg said as he hauled on another old t-shirt. Mycroft laughed.

“Only as long as it’s at my place. Where there is enough room.”

Greg pouted briefly. “I know the flat is small, but I like being close to you.”

Mycroft watched him and sighed. “As do I, Gregory, but this flat is not safe. It’s falling apart. The floors are coming up, the kitchen is just flat-out dingy, and I worry that your bed might fall through the floor.”

Another laugh escaped the DI. “You know, I could see you sabotaging this place just so you can get me to move in with you.” Greg suddenly stopped, electing not to face the other man. He may have just crossed a line he’d never meant to cross so early on in a relationship.

Mycroft stared at him, disbelief on his face. “I would never do that…” Greg knew him too well; of course he would do that. He was a Holmes. And the most clever – he’d do what it took to get what he wanted.

“You might be able to foolish the governments of the world with your lies, but not me, Myc.” Greg winked at him. “Why the hell are you out of bed so early anyway?”

“I told you. I couldn’t sleep because it’s too small.” Mycroft said as Greg finally turned around.

Greg stared at him for a moment. “There’s always the couch downstairs, you know.”

“Are you telling me that if we stay here, I ‘get the couch?’”

“No, you idiot. It’s a hideaway bed. And it’s a full-size. I’m saying we both spend our Saturday in bed. In the basement.”

Mycroft was about to ask just why in the hell he had had to suffer a night in that tiny bed when Greg had a full-sized one in his basement, but the implications of the statement drove home just a bit more quickly. He glanced up at Greg, peering at him from beneath his lashes. Before he knew it, he was literally racing Lestrade downstairs.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!


End file.
